


For Every Broken Dream

by prongsno



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, F/M, Forbidden Love, Romantic Fluff, Secret Identity, Secret Relationship, Victorian
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2018-02-09
Packaged: 2018-12-01 00:26:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11474769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prongsno/pseuds/prongsno
Summary: At seventeen, James Potter's only option is to work in service at the large Evans estate as a farmer. He can't mess this up- he needs it more than ever. Shame things are never as easy as we want them to be.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gxldentrio](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gxldentrio/gifts), [Moucaaa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moucaaa/gifts), [snapslikethis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/snapslikethis/gifts), [twilightstargazer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/twilightstargazer/gifts), [a_lrightevans](https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_lrightevans/gifts), [bonn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bonn/gifts), [jilylicious](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jilylicious/gifts).



Amidst a heavy blanket of snow there stands a shivering James Potter. His shoes are weak and frayed, multiple holes give the bone-chilling muddy snow access to his already numbed toes. He shivers, it’s unforgivably cold and the chill bites at his skin but still he marches on.

He fights against the harsh winter elements and pulls his tattered jacket closer around his shaking body. Then he stares up, mouth half open in amazement, at the house sitting on the hills.

The Evans manor looms over the horizon. It’s almost threatening.  

It’s the largest house he has ever laid eyes on; extravagant and massive. Bright lights shine out of every window and hot smoke curls out of the dozens of chimneys, boastful and mocking.

It’s taunting him.

The closer and closer he gets to it the more… breathtaking it becomes.

It’s elegant and his saving grace, providing him with shelter, warmth, food and coin. And yet he has a terrible feeling that in some ways it will be like a prison. That it will, ultimately, also be his downfall.

He lets out a deep, shaky breath.

He needs the money, he needs to escape the madness, he needs… hope . And this opportunity rose out of the ashes like a God-send; he’d be a fool to pass it up. He could not mess this up. 

This was everything to him.

Working for the Evans family, that’s his life now.

“Potter, I presume?” An old woman with striking blue eyes looks him up and down.

He feels her stare, at the state of his mud-splattered trousers and at the drenched jacket. He has half a mind to tell her that he can’t exactly control the weather now, can he? If it was sunny he’d be in a better appearance.

“Yes ma’am.”

But he remembers why he’s here. He remembers how important this is to him. That he can’t mess this up.

He looks at the woman straight and hard, like how he’s been told. Respectful, yielding. He’s in the working world now.

He gives her a clumsy bow, long legs buckle as his back bends. His cap slides off his head almost like it’s flying and lands, gracefully, into the puddle by his feet.  

It’s the woman’s look of wild alarm as he grabs for it and squeezes out as much excess water as he can before placing it back over his windswept hair. But it’s also the precarious shadow of someone in one of the large windows, watching as the woman addresses herself as McGonagall, the housekeeper.

James feels somewhat on edge, like he’s in a lions den.

It’s when McGonagall turns away from the house and he follows after begrudgingly that he can  _still_  feel that stare on his back.

He gulps; uncertainty and fear cripples him. But he marches on.

Past the house, up the gravel pathway, and into the never-ending wood where the trees are so numerous and dense that in summer time you probably wouldn’t even be able to see the sky through it.

It’s about a ten minute walk before he’s met with the farmer’s fields.

There’s a thick scattering of frost, but he can make out the allotments filled with seeds and growing vegetables, apple trees and bushes surrounding the large farm that’s to the side. A quaint looking, but relatively decent-sized, cottage smiles at him from across the lane. Animal noises and sounds fill the air, it’s almost refreshing.

A plump and excited looking man stands waiting for them, a dog wags his bottle brush like tail non-stop by his feet.

“Mr Slughorn,” McGonagall states when they finally halt to a stop. “This is the boy.”

Slughorn takes James’ hands and he’s swept up into the most uncomfortable and yet pleasant hug imaginable. Calloused and rough hands then shake him, gigantic smiles and well-spoken wishes fill the air, that James is most welcome and that they’re now family.

The big dog lets out a happy woof, far too excited now by the prospect of making a new friend, and runs towards the newcomer. Dirty paws jump at him and then James is on the floor, laughing for what seems the first time in years as a smelly, wet tongue licks his face.

Despite everything, James finds himself grinning. 

As long as he tries to forget about what happened… as long as tries to forget about the large house acres away and the rich family who reside inside it, he thinks he’ll enjoy it here.

* * *

He gets used to the routine pretty quickly.

It’s a fast paced environment; he wakes up early and sleeps late and does chore after chore. But James wouldn’t change it for the world.

He feeds the chickens with a smile on his face, grooms the Captain Evans’ horses with care and even learns how to milk Myrtle (which he quickly dubs Mooing Myrtle, for the cow is always mooing about something).

Slughorn is also quite the character, forever getting into sticky situations to which James is forever and constantly helping the old man get out of. He’s like an old, embarrassing uncle which he’s never had and it’s suddenly as if he’s always been at the Evans estate.

The farm is like his home, the animals his friends and Slughorn the family member he needs now more than ever.

It’s peaceful and full of tranquillity and soon a day becomes a week, then a month and suddenly he finds that he’s been working at the farm for what feels like his whole life.

He’s never seen the family that live on the house on the hills and he's keen on keeping it that way.

He gives the food and milk to the servants, who then take it back to the house in old wooden carts. One servant, a sweet girl named Mary who he befriends quickly, speaks of nothing but high praise for the family. But he’s determined and stubborn.

No one with that much money is good.

He would much rather stay in the quaint little farm and block out the family living in luxury just on the other side of the field, thank you very much. And so that’s what he does.

There are other helpers and workers on the fields, but the main duties rely heavily on Slughorn, and thus, as his new apprentice, James too.

“You’re doing well, m’boy.” Slughorn beams up at James one day (he towers over the short man, but neither seem to mind).

It’s a fine, spring day when the two are out in the fields, checking on the strawberry plants and discussing the many uses of manure as a fertiliser.

“Thank you,” James grins and picks up a daisy, threading it through the top button hole of his shirt. “I never thought I would say this, sir, but… manure is so fascinating.”

“It really is, my dear boy!” The old farmer laughs and, with a shocking amount of force for such an old and small man, whacks him hard on the back. It brings tears to his eyes, but they’re happy.

“I needed a good chortle,” The old man smiles a little absently. “Say, how much do you think you’ve learned since coming here?”

“Quite a lot, sir.”

James begins to list off the duties he knows how to do by heart, bending his fingers as he ticks them off his mental list.

He admits that he’s still rather new to pruning and that shearing a sheep is his worst nightmare, but Slughorn doesn’t see that as a problem and brushes it off with a wave of his hand.

The man clears his throat and twiddles his thumbs, thinking how best to tell the lad.

“Listen, Potter.” Slughorn starts. “I have to run an errand. Just for a short while… can I leave the farm and the fields in your capable hands?”

James is nodding in an instant. Of course, he would have never been able to say no… but the thought of being in control of the farm and (hopefully) getting a few more coins out of it is certainly enticing.

“I’ve already sent word for someone to help you. Sirius, a young lad who lives nearby. He’s helped me on occasion and has kindly agreed to keep you company and to share the workload.” Slughorn smiles. “He’s a troublemaker, but no doubt the two of you will have immense fun. As long as you don’t neglect your duties to the farm then I have no problem. He’ll be here on the second day of my departure, alright?”

“You can count on me, sir.”

Throughout the following days Slughorn helps James with anything he needs, but the man says he has the utmost faith that he will do a good job.

Then the day finally arrives.

Slughorn puts on his ‘going out’ hat, gets his nicer looking walking stick and embraces him in a tight, father-like hug. He tells James he doesn’t know when he’ll be back, but will send a letter once his errand is done.

Then he places a rake into James’ scruffy hands.

“Remember, Sirius will be here tomorrow to help. I’m depending on you, boy. Don’t let me down.”

He watches as the man hobbles down the lane, waving one last time before the trees block him from view. James waves the rake, feeling too many emotions at once.

And suddenly he’s alone.

It’s a feeling he hasn’t been used to in a while, since before it all happened. He loves and hates it at the same time; it’s unsettling but the fact that Sirius will be here tomorrow makes it slightly more bearable.

So, he decides today he’ll do his best to relax.

Should be easy.

As he walks up towards the vegetation fields he hums out a merry tune. The sun is hot against the back of his neck and he basks in the delightful southern heat. It’s far more pleasant than the horrible weather he’s been used to.

He closes his eyes and exhales. The peace he feels is so uplifting, it’s like he could float away into the clouds.

Breathing in that fresh air had at first seemed so utterly bizarre. He was used to smog and smoke; pollution and dirt everywhere, the tell-tale signs of a bustling, metropolitan city on the move.

But here the air is crisp and kind, the sky always clear and gentle. Here he can relax and not worry.

That is, until he notices a figure by the batch of strawberry plants. The figure clings suspiciously to a basket that’s full to the brim of flowers, whistling rather merrily as they help themselves to strawberries.

James lets out a furious gasp.

The strawberries that he has spent so much time and effort on. That he has laboured and loved over.

He breaks into a run and races towards them.

“Oi, thief!”

His voice rings throughout the fields, causing a few birds to scatter and flurry out of trees. The thief looks up in alarm then breaks into a sprint.

He swears under his breath and hurries after. His legs ache and his chest burns, but he picks up his speed. The thief is fast but James, thanks to all of the manual labour he’s been doing, has the edge.

He reaches out, fingers grabbing hold of the basket in a tight grip. He pulls hard, the handle breaks and showers of wicker basket fly out in all directions and strawberries and flowers whizz out into the air. The thief halts a little, turning their head back over one shoulder to gawp at the wreckage, and James has no time to stall. He runs into the body, his chest slamming against their back so hard that they're pushed forward; staggering like a drunken soldier before they loose their footing and trip hard over a tree stump. His eyes widen as he hears the loud bang of their body slamming down onto the earth, but he has no time to stop and stumbles over their legs, chest once more colliding into their back. 

“Ooof!”

James has no time to check for injuries. The thief groans underneath him and tries to wriggle free but he quickly grabs hold of their arms and winds a leg around the theirs, keeping them locked underneath him.

“How dare you steal from this farm! What gives you the right?” He huffs, breathing heavily in the hopes that his racing heart will quickly calm down.

“I wasn’t stealing!” The thief says hotly… sounding extremely feminine and high pitched for a male.

James narrows his eyes and grips a little tighter. Then, with as much strength as he can manage, flips the thief over (surprisingly an incredibly easy thing to do).

The thief isn’t a man at all. It’s a woman.

James blinks and looks at the girl underneath him.

The strawberry thief…

...she’s blinding.

She’s a beautiful sunset. Soft like velvet against his skin.

Her bright red hair flows out onto grass around them, and wide, almond shaped green eyes look up at him. 

Freckles adorn her smooth looking skin, splattering across her cheeks and nose like a dusting of icing sugar on a victoria sponge (not that he’s ever had the honour of tasting such a delicacy but he’s seen the beautiful cakes through shop windows, when he’d press his nose against the glass, close his eyes and breathe in so heavily you could almost taste the sweetness on your tongue).

James swallows, suddenly unsure on what to do.

His hands still grip onto her tightly but he realises numbly that their bodies are pressed rather unceremoniously close together. He’s so close that he can hear her short gasps for breath amidst his own heavy breathing. Finally he breaks eye contact and nods towards the basket.

“What do you call that then, eh?” He asks, reaching out to grab hold of one of the plumper looking strawberries.

He waves it in her face. In return he receives a lethal looking scowl and eye-roll. The thief grumbles something under her breath then tries to wriggle free from under his grip.

“I’m not letting you go until you tell me what the hell you think you were doing.” He warns. “And why you’re in boy’s clothes.” He’s only just noticed and stares at her in shock.

She’s wearing an oversized button top and grey cotton trousers. And she’s barefoot.

He opens his mouth to comment on that too, (about how she’s a weird person because, aren’t there brambles and nettles in these parts?) but she huffs and stares up at him defiantly.

“Who even are you? Where’s Slughorn?”

“He’s off doing some errand, he left me in charge.”

He finds it slightly odd that the two of them are making conversation (if that is what you could call it, anyhow) in the bodily situation they’re in and tries his best not to blush. He can’t let the thief know, otherwise she’ll have the upper hand.

He’s never even really talked to a woman his age before, let alone be straddling a young lady and branding them as a strawberry thief.

“Aah.” She nods her head and gives him a smile that throws him off guard.

“So you’re the new protege?” She seems to have no problem whatsoever with the whole situation; she looks up at him through half-lidded eyes and his heart skips a beat, his grip on her loosens.

She glances up at him, craning her neck to look at the rest of him.

“You’re a bit… well. Not what I was imagining.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? I’m extremely capable, thank you very much.”

“Oh I don’t doubt it,” Strawberry Thief laughs and James has to breathe out slowly again.

He needs to keep his wits and remember that she’s committed a crime.

“I just thought you would be younger. More youthful-”

“I’m only seventeen.” James grumbles. “Not exactly a pensioner.”

When she laughs it’s exactly what he imagines Heaven to sound like. Like something in a dream, in a faraway land under shooting stars and beside hundreds of ancient, shimmering caves.

“Look,” The thief starts, catching his gaze. She smiles at him and this time it’s a sweet and genuine expression.

“If I promise not to run away can you, please, release me so we can both stand? Unless you like being in this kind of position-”

In an instant he lets go, like she’s burning metal in his hands. He hears her chuckle and avoids her eyes as he stands. She’s grinning like a mad-man, looking smugly at him, as he moves his chest back, untangles his legs and leaps upwards. Her smirk widens even more when he offers out his hand and she takes it without a second thought.

She’s tiny, only reaching the bottom of his neck and yet she almost outran him. James can’t believe it.

“What’s your name?” She asks as soon as her feet hit the soft grass.

“Uh… James. James Potter.” He drops her hand and scratches the back of his neck. He’s in foreign waters and he has no idea what he’s supposed to do.

“Well, James Potter.” Strawberry Thief nods. “It was fun, but I have to leave now.” She walks towards the basket and James gapes after her.

“Wait, what? I just caught you stealing those and now you think you can get away with it?”

He lunges for three of the berries that still scatter the ground, grabbing them just before she can.

“I have half a mind to report you and bring you to McGonagall. She’s the housekeeper of this estate and runs it for the family who own it.”

“Oh?” She asks, her eyes twinkling. “And what of the family?”

“Dunno. They’re just some poncy rich folk who have too much money on their hands.”

Truthfully, he has no idea why he’s saying any of this to her… he could get in trouble for that.  And he’s caught her stealing, he’s just seen it with his own eyes, and yet… yet why is he so reluctant to do what he deems just? She’s just committed a crime.

She’s a thief.

“Then what’s the harm of me taking a few strawberries and flowers?”

He pauses, she’s caught him there. And they both know it.

She stares at him expectantly and folds her arms against her chest, waiting for his answer. He wishes he could wipe that smug look of her face but in the end all he does is sigh.

“Well…” He’s baffled. “I…”

Maybe this girl is poorer than he is. Maybe she’s having as much trouble with life as he was. She only wanted to pick a few harmless flowers and strawberries. Surely he isn't that cruel, right?

“I guess I can let you off this once.” He grimaces at his defeat, trying not to blush when she grins at him and her eyes shine like the stars.

“You can keep those.” She says, nodding to the bundle still in his hand. “For the trouble I caused.”

And with that she skips off down the lane that leads towards the estate.

James shakes his head and follows her with his gaze.

What a crazy woman. Hopefully he’ll never see her again.

* * *

Sirius, as Slughorn promised, arrives at the farm promptly at 8’oclock the following morning.

Tousled, messy black hair, bright grey, twinkling eyes. He’s biting a large red apple, chewing it loudly like a cow as he looks James up and down.

“I thought you’d be…” Sirius trails off, crunching into his apple once more. Juice dribbles onto his chin and he wipes his face with the rolled up sleeve of his blue shirt. “Younger?”

“Seriously? What’s wrong with me being the way I am?”

“Nothing!” Sirius lets out a merry hum and walks towards the farm. James has no choice but to reluctantly follow after him.

The lad grabs a spade and hands James the rake with a grin.

“It’s just, well. McGonagall must have really liked you. Usually apprentices are eleven or twelve, y’know old enough to learn and grow but young enough too… are you her son or something?”

“God, no!” James gasps. It’s like something has just stabbed at his heart. He gulps, trying to laugh off the pain. “I was just extremely lucky. At my old home we had a neighbour who was friends with someone whose brother’s wife is McGonagall.”

“Ah, okay. Do you miss your home a lot?”

A deeply personal question, one James isn’t sure if he should (or even could) answer.

“Well I…” He trails off, uncertain. “There isn’t much left for me there. But… yeah. Of course I miss it.”

Sirius nods, biting down the question on his lips.

“So!” He says, trying to brighten the mood. He twirls the spade as they enter the fields. “Have you met any of the Evans lot yet?”

“Honestly, I’ve been avoiding them as much as possible. I don’t really feel comfortable around… um… rich folk.” James says the two words with a grumble, glaring up at the sun as he wipes his forehead.

He misses Sirius’ startled look. That’s not the answer he was expecting. He forces out a huge yawn and stretches his arms up towards the sky.

“They’re not so bad, as far as rich people go anyways.”

As he talks, Sirius shows James a handy trick with the spade. And, once their chores are done, they trail down the fields, towards the farmyard.

They have to load the carts full of dairy produce for the manor today, something that James always hates doing but he’s relieved that he’s got help this time.

It’s Mary who waits by the lane as always, a sweet smile gracing her lips. She has the ability to brighten up any gloomy day and as soon as James sees her he can’t help but relax a little.

“Alright, Mary? Here’s the whats-its and what-nots as always,” James stops the cart, waiting for the other usual servant, Mr Diggory, to catch them all up.

“Afternoon James.” She smiles and gives him a friendly smile and nod. “Who’s your friend?” It’s when her eyes fall onto Sirius that a slight blush appears on her cheeks.

James grins and whacks Sirius, who’s pretending to be fascinated at the dairy produce, hard in the side.

“Sirius.” The boy almost belts out. He glares at James and then finally allows his eyes to fall onto the small girl standing in front of them.

She smiles hopefully at him, her cheeks a little blushed and her eyes full of wonder and hope. He grimaces and forces his gaze to fall onto Mr Diggory, who’s now exclaiming what a wonderful day it is.

“Ello lads, isn’t that sun glorious?” The man smiles and points to the magnificent sun that’s shining so brightly it’s like the manor is sparkling.

James supposes, rather begrudgingly, it is a beautiful sight. And perhaps, when he casts a sneaky glance towards Sirius, who has a tinge of red on his cheeks and is trying his hardest not to meet the gaze of the still awe-struck and bashful Mary, there are some other things in life that have beauty in them also.

Sirius is unusually quiet on their short walk back to the farm (in the short amount of hours James has known him it’s highly apparent that the boy can talk the hind legs off a donkey). He had said goodbye rather abruptly and loudly after the chore was done, forcing James to give a shocked (and definitely disappointed) Mary a sheepish smile as he told her he’d see her later.

What Sirius’ problem is, he has no idea. The boy is definitely handsome and he’s certain he has had his fair share of women showing an interest. But James isn’t one to pry.

“Hey.” He asks, finding it strange to see Sirius so silent. “So what can you tell me about the Evans family then?”

That seems to cheer him up and soon James is listening to an oral essay on the gentry and the manor house.

“The one to avoid is definitely the eldest daughter. Lady Petunia Evans. Horrid woman. She’s betrothed to this walrus of a man and they’re just the most dreadful people. The youngest daughter is nice though, Lady Lily.”

“Huh. I didn’t know they had any daughters.”

They reach the farm. Padfoot runs towards them, woofing happily. The canine jumps up at Sirius, who seems as excited to see the dog as the dog is to see him. Mooing Myrtle moos moodily in the distance, she’s getting a little restless.

“Have you worked here before, then?” James asks, nodding towards Padfoot who Sirius is now cradling in his arms like a giant, fluffy baby.

The boy freezes. “Here?”

“Padfoot’s acting like you’re his best friend. And Slughorn mentioned that you’ve helped him before. He said you lived nearby.”

Sirius lets out an awkward chuckle, puts down Padfoot and scratches his chin thoughtfully. “Oh, ha. I err, I just come by sometimes to help is all.”

“So are you from the estate nearby… what was it called again? Like a colour or something…” James grabs hold of a bucket and walks towards Myrtle.

He misses Sirius’ grimace. “Black. It’s the Black Manor.”

“Right. You work there?”

“I guess you could say that.” He grins.

They work in silence for a while, Myrtle seems a lot happier now and the pig Dolores snorts happily in her pen. But James still has that burning question and he finally lets it out.

“Do you get a lot of thieves around here?”

Sirius looks up in alarm. “Thieves? Like... highway men?”

“Like… um. Girls.”

“ _Girls_?”

James nods, his cheeks hot. “There was a girl and she stole some strawberries.”

“Weird.” Sirius shrugs. “I’ve never heard of a strawberry thief around here.”

“She was weird. She was absolutely barmy. Wore boys clothes and was barefoot. I mean, who does that?”

“That is a  _very_ unusual thing… didn’t you ask for her name?”

“Ah… I um.” James drops a glass bottle and he moves his feet quickly away from the shattered glass.

Sirius snorts. “Lost your speech to her beauty, eh?”

“No!” They both know he’s lying.  James tries his best to ignore the boy’s suggestive eyebrows. “I err, she didn’t say her name-”

“Well, if she was stealing I doubt she’d give that away freely.”

“I let her go. I could have reported her to McGonagall… but I didn’t.” James scowls as he remembers her. How guilty he felt, how unsure he was. He picks up a daisy, threading the fragile flower through his fingers. “I kept thinking, ‘what if she’s as poor as me?’ and the guilt just gnawed inside at me.”

He doesn’t notice the strange way Sirius scratches his nose. Or the way he looks like he should say something, the boy opens his mouth, but closes it almost instantly. When James turns to look at him he just shrugs his shoulders innocently.

“Guess you won’t find out ‘till you see her again.”

“You think I will?”

The sun is setting behind them. The farmers fields look almost alight under the fierce glare and hot air swirls around them, caressing their faces.

“I bet she’s even closer than you think.” Is all Sirius says.

The two boys watch, Padfoot laid across the both of them, as the sun slowly sinks behind the hills.

One day down, another is just about to begin.


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James meets the strawberry thief for a second time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry it's taken this long to do chapter two!!!
> 
> Things to remember from chapter one:  
> Slughorn went away. James met a girl who wanted to steal strawberries. Sirius is helping James in the Evans estate and seems a little bashful when it comes to a particular maid of the house, Mary MacDonald.

A fortnight passes with no other visit from the strawberry thief, something that James is both relieved and curious about.

Throughout the days that follow he’s extremely grateful and thankful that Sirius is here to help him. The days are quiet and lonely without Slughorn, but the wide-eyed boy with the cheshire-cat like grin fills the gap, almost. He could even go as far as calling him a friend.

Summer reaches its peak; the days are golden and amber, as if the whole world is on fire around them. The hours are bright and he’s constantly surrounded by so much beauty that it makes his heart lighter each day. The colours he didn’t even know existed before seeing them through dainty flowers, the succulent smell of the sweet peas and geraniums that fill up his senses and make him feel like he’s in a different world.

He is, in a way.

Then there are the days that McGonagall makes her visit to check up on how he’s doing. Each day he sees her he hopes earnestly (and sometimes even prays) that he’ll see the housekeeper with a little brown envelope clutched tight in her hands, but each day it’s the same. No news, no idea how Slughorn is.

The woman, behind her stern brow and set lips, radiates a kind of motherly love and affection. It’s unnerving and heartbreaking. Especially when he’s almost run out of his stash of tea bags, so she brings him a handful from the manor so fine that he hardly wants to touch them in case his hands are too dirty.

She makes him a tea, all the while chattering about how many people she’s met during her life.

“You come to realise, Potter,” she says as she munches through her fifth bourbon biscuit, “that everyone is living their own life. Course, it sounds obvious when I say it like that. But all the people in the world are fighting their own battles. It makes you feel less lonely, in a way.”

He’s grateful for her company, especially on the days when Sirius fails to show and ends up sending a hurried, scribbled letter with one of the usual workers. It’s always the same ‘something urgent has come up’ and, while he’s definitely in no position to judge anyone, he can’t help but wonder about his friend’s life outside of the Evans manor.

McGonagall is just putting a slice of cake down on the wooden table one day when a panting Peter Pettigrew knocks on his door with a letter.

“It’s from Sirius,” The boy says before James can even open his mouth.

He nods all the same, opening the envelope with grubby fingers and scans his eyes over the elegant handwriting (how does Sirius manage to write so neatly?), even though he knows full well what it will say.

He should really check up on his friend and make sure he’s alright; it’s the fourth day he’s missed (which really isn’t that much when you take into consideration all the times Sirius _has_ shown up at the crack of dawn, ready to work).

“Sirius again, is it?” The housekeeper asks, her eyes twinkling a little too knowingly. James nods and places the letter on the chair, shrugging.

“You care very deeply about him, don’t you?” she says, and pops another biscuit into her mouth. She nudges the tin over to him slightly. He doesn’t take one.

“I just want to make sure he’s okay, is all. I…” He laughs, a little uncertain, scratching behind his ear as he stares defiantly out of the window as to not catch her gaze. “Well. I don’t have many friends.”

McGonagall smiles and, when she does, her eyes shine like the northern lights he’s heard about in bedtime stories. James wishes she did that more often - it’d be a lot easier to work for her if she wasn’t stern and scary all the time.

“You’ve got a lot of heart.”

He isn’t so sure. She didn’t meet him _then_. When problems had arched upon his back like he was carrying the world on his shoulders and all he wanted to do was crumble from the weight of it all.

He didn’t even recognise himself now, if that was a good or bad thing he wasn’t sure.

“Aren’t you worried, Ma’am?”

“About what?”

“Sirius. And…” He can already feel the apprehension mixed along with fear and nervousness as he opens his mouth and licks his dry lips. “And Mr. Slughorn. He said he’d be back soon-”

It’s the way that she smiles at him and pats him on the hand, bringing his hurried words to a jumbled stop.

“Slughorn is well, I can assure you that. As for your friend… just be patient.”

James nods, trying to let her words calm down the anxiety and tension that still twists uncomfortably in his gut.

McGonagall says nothing for a while.

They sip at their tea in a comforting silence, watching out of the window as the birds fly around in the trees. But then the old woman is nudging the tin full of biscuits at him again, her eyes twinkling.

“Have a biscuit, Potter,” she says.

This time, he does.

 

* * *

 

It’s the first light of day and James, eyes squinting against the bright sun, stumbles up the lane.

He half expects Sirius to not be there; but lo and behold there the boy is, crunching on an apple and blowing on a dandelion, the seeds flying around him in the light breeze.

“They’re a bugger to get rid of you know,” James scowls, slapping the dandelion out Sirius’ hand.

 Sirius’s grin is wide. “Nice to see you too.”

 “How’s everything? Was it something with your family?”

 Sirius just shakes his head, brushing it away. “Nah it’s fine.” He chews on the last bite of apple and takes a crumpled letter from his chest pocket. “You should read this though. That girl came to deliver it this morning.”

 “By _girl_ , do you mean Mary?” James asks with a sly grin.

 Sirius rolls his eyes, cheeks a little heated. “Oh was that her name? I couldn’t recall.”

 One thing they seem to have in common, it seems, is their inability to lie. He lets it slide though, just this time. The last time Sirius saw Mary he was a bumbling mess and could hardly speak three words in front of her.

 The letter is light in his hands, and the handwriting looks eerily like the familiar scratching of Slughorn. James rips the letter open in an instant, letting out a deep breath as he reads.

 “The old man’s coming back! In four nights.”

 Sirius peers over his shoulder, and presses his thumb against one of the inked words. “A _fortnight_ ,” he says. “It means two weeks.”

 “How’d you know that?”

 “Err,” Sirius turns, and hastily pulls the wheelbarrow up with his hands. “I saw it one time in a newspaper one time?” He doesn’t even wait for James to answer back, just starts whistling out a merry tune and starts walking towards the gardens.

 James swears, picking up his own manure-filled wheelbarrow and jogs after him. “Where’d you get one of those? The paper’s a lot of pennies.”

 “Oh, I found it. In the bin.”

 They stop moving, ready to deposit the manure by the vegetable patch. James still doesn’t look convinced.

 “So you rummaged through a bin and found a newspaper _just_ so you could learn a new word?”

 “Reading’s fun.” He shrugs. “It's important and informative. Keeps your mind away from reality.”

 It’s mid June, the weather changes frequently between warm and boiling and James, who anticipated the former, takes off his cotton jacket. It’s stifling, and he wipes his brow with the coat before throwing it over the barrow.

“Away from your family?”

The garden’s are busy today, with people tending to every aspect from the delicate, beautiful flowers and plants in the greenhouses to the very grass itself.

Sirius manages a nod. “I suppose.”

“You’re not the only one,”

“To have family issues?” Sirius wipes his brow, smearing mud across his face and laughs out. “Don’t think there’s anyone on this good earth who’s lucky enough not to have problems with family.”

It’s something he keeps in his mind all day. Even when they’re walking back towards the farmyard in the evening, when the sun’s rays are withering away behind cool clouds.

Are all family issues like his? Do they all hurt as much?

 “Do you know much about Slughorn’s family?” he asks Sirius as the two stop to eat their dinner at the top of the hill.

 From here, the whole estate and beyond is in view. The vast greenery, the gigantic Evan’s household, with its elaborate windows and dozens of steaming chimneys. Beyond that is the Black Manor, somewhere hidden in the distance.

 “He has a happy family, from what I remember.” Sirius pulls at the grass next to him, fingers digging into the dirt. “Two boys and a girl. And Mrs Slughorn made the tastiest minced pies.”

 “I hope nothing too serious happened, for him to pack up and go back like that.”

 James takes out two crisp, tart apples and two slices of lightly salted buttered wheat bread. Sirius refuses to eat it, but gives in when James threatens to tell Mary all about Sirius’s feelings.

 “He’s already endured a fair share of loss, they had another girl who caught scarlet fever when she was only little.” It takes Sirius a lot longer than James to eat the bread. Whilst James is ferociously hungry, and eats the whole thing in two bites, three at the most (he’s too famished to really count), Sirius takes dozens of tiny bites.

“I think he does go to visit them as much as he can. I tried to help him with the travel money,” At this point Sirius stops and stuffs the rest of the bread into his mouth. His eyes are a little panicked as he washes away the bread with water. “Of course but I, err, don’t have a lot. At all.”

James is only really understanding now that each family is different. They all have their problems. It’s a strange thought that there must be others in the world who suffer just as much as he is. Who have problems with family.

There has to be. He can't be the only one feeling like this.

In the back of his mind, he hears Sirius call out that he needs to leave. The sun is setting, it’s time for the work to end again.

“You’ve never told me about your family.” James blurts out, watching curiously as Sirius pauses, his feet crunching to a halt on the gravel pathway.

His fingers twitch as he turns back and gives him a small, sad smile. “Maybe one day.”

“Just so long as you know I uh…” James flexes his hands and bites his lip. “I’m here, if you want to - you know - talk.”

“You flatter me.”

“Oh, stuff it.” A twig is thrown in Sirius’s direction and he dodges it with another laugh.

“Thanks though, I’ll keep that in mind.”

Then off Sirius goes, the sun on his back and the trees dancing beside him as he departs back down the hill.

When the boy has disappeared from sight, James walks up the small lane towards the farm, his mind still reeling about family. _His_ family, and the pain that resurfaces every time he remembers.

It's the numb feeling, making his fingers itch as he thinks back. That pain of loss, something most are aware of but few never really heal from it.

His feet halt to a stop when he hears a noise coming from the farm. There’s a light on in the house. Grubby, dirt-painted fingers grip tight onto the spade in his hands, and he tip-toes cautiously inside.

He’s met with a peculiar sight.

“You! You’re not planning on stealing the pig now, are you?!”

She’s like autumn; crisp, orange and red.

She gives him a stare, cool and undeterred and keeps stroking Dolores the pig.

“Do you know what shoes are?” he asks when her silence lasts longer than a minute.

She wiggles her toes absently and for a split second James regrets his question - what if she _really is_ too poor to own a pair of shoes?

“You’re unbelievable,” she says after what feels like a lifetime.

Her voice is filled with joy and happiness and she snorts out a laugh, eyes crinkling as he stares at her, gobsmacked. He’s shocked, staring at her as she gives the pig a final pat and walks through the farm and towards the cottage.

 _His_ cottage.

He hurries after her, not sure if this is real or a dream.

“What are you even doing here?” he calls out, his feet rushing to fall in step with hers. His entire body is filled with butterflies, they jitter around inside making him feel all twitchy. He glances over to her, she must be a figment of his imagination. She has to be.

“Do I need a reason?”

She opens the door like she owns the place, waltzes towards the sink and begins to wash her hands. He doesn’t know what to do and for a fleeting moment it seems like she doesn't know either.

Once she’s finished with the sink her fingers flutter along the brick wall and she turns away from his gaze, a soft blush gracing her cheeks and then with a blink it’s gone as quickly as it came.

There’s silence.

“So, are you not going to offer me a drink?” she asks. She cocks her head, folds her arms against her chest and stares at him expectantly.

He stays where he is, leaning against the door, still too shocked to move. How can she affect him this much?

Her eyes twinkle, like she knows what he’s thinking, and his feet move before he’s even aware of it. He’s walking towards her, not entirely sure why.

“I don’t really have a lot to offer,” he says finally. “Water or milk. That’s about it.” He shrugs and glances down at her.

Dirty feet, the same baggy and worn out clothes that he last saw her in, her hair still wild and chaotic.

And yet she’s still breathtaking.

She hums and walks towards the fraying, red chair by the window. “No tea? That’s an outrage.”

“Ran out yesterday.”

He pours her a cup of water and hands it to her, trying his best to hide his shaking fingers. He’s not exactly living in luxury, but what he has, as little as it may be, seems to be a lot more than her.

She sits in the chair like it’s hers, like it was designed and made just for her. It looks so natural.

He stares as she drinks and she stares defiantly back.

“Are you going to tell me what you’re really doing here?” he asks once she places the empty cup on the table. “How did you know I’d be here? Who even are you?”

“That’s a lot of questions you’re asking, James.”

He shivers, delighted that she remembers his name. “Well, you’re not really giving me a lot to go on.”

Dusk snatches away any light left in the room like a thief, forcing him to light a candle. Once her face is illuminated by the dimmed light it’s like she’s a different person.

“I’m intrigued, I suppose.”

“About what?”

She lifts her head, and for a moment it looks like she’s struggling with what to say. “You.”

“ _Me_?” His eyes widen in shock. “Why?”

She leans forwards. “You’ve left your family, your home. You’ve travelled probably miles from the city. To come here.” She gestures around her. “ _Here_. In some boring estate where even the grass gets cared for. Why?”

“The city isn’t a great place.”

“I wouldn’t know. I’ve spent my whole life here. I can’t even imagine the city.” She looks out of the window dreamily, she must think it’s like some passage from Lord Byron’s poetry, romantic and exhilarating. If so, James thinks with a frown, she’s severely mistaken.

“There are no birds, for starters. No waking up in the mornings and listening to their songs. None of that.”

She looks surprised, but not too shocked. “Well birds require nests in trees and vast land for the chicks to get food. I suppose you’ll find more of that in the country.”

He nods, pretending like he has at least some idea of what she just said. He knows nothing about birds, just that their singing is sweet to his ears.

“Don’t you miss your family?” The question is soft spoken and the butterflies are back, rippling and fluttering all the way from his toes to his heart.

She notices the way his breath hitches, how his eyes suddenly change like the tide. There's so much emotion in there, so much he's clearly battling.

“I'm sorry,” she says. “I didn't mean to pry… you don't have to -”

“It's okay.” He smiles and drums his fingers against the table. Her stare, normally daunting, gives him a strange kind of peace. She’s under his skin, already a part of him. “I don't have much of that left.” He says finally, his words hesitant as he stares into her eyes.

She doesn’t press on, and for that he’s thankful. One day he’ll talk about it, he says to her. When he’s ready.

It’s remarkably easy to talk to her. She listens to him ramble on about his farming adventures with a smile, and she laughs when he recounts his first sheep shearing experience.

It seems like she has no intention of leaving for what feels like hours. He's used to her company and her soft, sweet laughter that sets his heart ablaze.

But then she's standing and he instantly follows out of respect, even if she has no title to her name - she’s his Lady.

“I really must be going now.”

“You still haven't told me your name…”

“What good’s a name?” she asks under the moonlight. “It doesn’t define you.”

“No, but then how else am I to know who you are? How would I… how would I find you?”

Under the thousand stars she's not a poor girl dressed in rags at all but a beautiful woman, radiating and twinkling under the beauty of the night sky. You don’t see the beauty of the night in the city either. But he hasn’t the heart to tell her that.

She ponders his words for a moment. “Just call me Jane . And I'll find you. If you let me.”

She's far more beautiful than a name as plain and simple as that, but he nods.

He promises her he'll be waiting.

 

* * *

 

“How was your passion-filled rendezvous with the fair lady?” 

“ _Pardon_?”

“You’ve got that stupid smile on your face you get whenever you’re speaking about her. So, did you meet her again?”

Sirius, who is sucking on a piece of sugar beet, gives James his most widest, cheshire-cat-like grin yet.

It’s when the boy starts wiggling his eyebrows in a horribly suggestive manner that he’s pushed to the floor and almost falls into a patch of manure.

“She came here just after you left, yes. But nothing happened.”

“Nothing? You mean you don't even know that she's…” Sirius bites his tongue, and tugs at his sleeve. “I mean, you don’t even know _who_ she is? Not even her name?”

James just shrugs, a small smile on his lips. He looks thrilled and awestruck. “Nope. But she did tell me to call her Jane.”

For some reason, Sirius groans at the name. He looks amused and perplexed at the same time. “ _Jane_?” He repeats, not being able to conceal a grin.

James is completely oblivious to it all. He stares up at the sky, breathing in the sweet, fresh air and lifts up his hands. “Jane. She’s far more than that. She has to be.”

Maybe, Sirius thinks, just maybe it will all work out. He hopes so, at the very least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!! I;m sorry it's not exciting and just kinda filled with talking! But there's more in the next chapter :) thanks <33

**Author's Note:**

> I'm super excited to share the first chapter with you guys! Please let me know what you think :)) second chapter coming (hopefully) soon!


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